The Wrong Idea (Stucky)
by korolevax
Summary: In which Bucky relentless flirts with Steve, only to end up saving his scrawny ass from a fight. Oh, and Clint gets a boost of self esteem. Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Pre-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
_skinny!steve / pre-tws bucky_
 _1940's au + fluff_  
╰ ╮

A chorus of loud whooping went out across the bar as Bucky hit his mug against his bunk mates' and drank down a load of beer. "Here's to being home!"

Bucky smiled and wrapped his arm over Ace's shoulder. "Gentlemen, I am _a small bit pleased_ that I get to be back in Brooklyn with you fine lads." He smirked teasingly.

Frenchie laughed and shook his head. "No more troops are being deployed for a few months. What does the amazing James Barnes plan to do with his bachelor time in New York?"

There was a small ring of "ooh's" from his army buddies as everyone turned their eyes to Bucky. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and-with a devious grin-murmured, "I'll just have to find someone to entertain me."

The cheers of his friends grew much more obnoxious with Bucky's reply. His smile spread from ear to ear as he finished his first pint of beer and set it down on the table they crowded around. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me, the throne room calls."

His friends let out more hollers-to what, he wasn't sure, as the most exciting thing he was going to do was take a very relieving trip to the bathroom-but they still called out drunkenly behind his back.

Although Bucky couldn't be sure of that howling group of commandos he called his friends, he was sure he became much to distracted by a cute little thing sitting at the bar.

Steve leaned over the counter of the bar, forearms folded and his head resting on them pitifully. He looked way too young and way too pitiful for someone at a bar.

His friend, Clint, leaned over to him and raised a brow. "Are you sure you don't want to go home? You look sick."

That only made Steve's face redden with embarrassment. "I had one drink." He argued quietly.

Clint shrugged helplessly and raised his mug of beer to his mouth. "That was one too many." He said before a long chug.

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Steve glared up at his friend. "You were the one who gave me that drink, though."

"What?" Clint said defensively. "You're the smart one here, don't blame me."

Steve sighed and let his head fall forward, his forehead resting on his arms as he grumbled to himself. Everything smelled like beer, and the music seemed to get louder every second. _I really need some new friends_ , he thought.

"Alright," Clint burped silently and slid the bartender his empty mug of beer, "I need to piss. Be back in a jiffy."

Steve sighed heavily. "Gee, Clint, tell me more." He sassed, but his friend had already hopped off the barstool and was on his way to the bathroom.

He was getting more used to the din of the music, but it seemed like a group of shouting idiots behind him only grew louder. He couldn't blame them; they were still in their dress uniforms, some of them adorning medals and ribbons that made Steve plant his head further into his arms.

 _Lucky them._ He sighed to himself. His eyes stared at the tops of his thighs, where his legs jittered. He wasn't even nervous-he just did that. It was simply another amazing Steve defect.

"Excuse me," Steve thought someone was talking to him, but the man only slipped into Clint's spot and asked the bartender, "A pint and a chaser, please."

With nothing else to do, Steve took a long look at him; clean hair swept to the side in greased waves, a solid jawline that flexed with each flaunting smile, smooth skin over his face. Steve could hardly imagine someone being thrown in the mud and calling it war. He looked too-pretty?

The brunette casually turned his head to Steve, his eyes flickering over the small man's body. "Sorry. Is this seat taken?" His voice was cool.

Steve's face reddened. The more he tried to look away, the more he ended up staring. In awe, in respect, whatever-he couldn't pull his eyes away. "Um-"

"Well, I won't be long." He promised, his pale lips forming a cocky side smile. "What are you doing alone at a bar, kid?"

It felt like hours had dragged by, minutes all condensed into one second of Steve gazing at him before he managed to break away his stare. "I didn't come alone." He said, managing to smile feebly.

The man raised his brows, and Steve wasn't sure if that was a sign of surprise of disappointment. "I take it you got a cute little thing watching over you? I would have to be jealous." He whistled, grabbing the mug the bartender slid him.

Fire felt like it was crawling over Steve's face. _Is he flirting with me?_ Not only would that be a first flirt from a guy, but a first in general. "Well, I-I..."

He couldn't quite seem to form the words. He wasn't even sure how to act in this situation. A girl had never taken to liking him, yet another man? It just seemed weird.

The other man laughed softly at Steve's oblivious attitude. "Doesn't matter. I guess I've lost my touch a bit." he said, and Steve made another impressed glance at his dress uniform. "Though I must say the available audience is very nice to come to. I'm Bucky, by the way."

 _He's flirting with me_. Steve decided in his head, as if that wasn't obvious enough. Before he could say anything, Bucky asked, "My pals are kinda annoying back there. What'ya say I buy you a drink and walk you home?"

Steve was quiet a moment before he mustered up the courage to smile. "Thanks, but I'm not...Um, I'm not-" He trailed off.

Bucky sighed and took the hint, a genuine smile still on his lips. "Wrong idea, got it. Worth a try, right?" He chuckled to himself quietly. Sliding off the barstool, Bucky grabbed his pint of beer in one hand and slid the chaser of liquor to Steve. "I can still buy you a drink, though." He said, throwing the smaller man a flirtatious wink.

Steve could already feel Clint's gaze awkwardly dart between the two as he came back from the bathroom. As Bucky turned to walk away, he noticed Clint and gave Steve a teasing thumbs up. "I was right, he is sorta cute."

Bucky smiled and walked away. Clint took his seat at the bar again, and his expression was a mixture of complete flattery and complete desire to punch Bucky in the face. "Hear that? I'm cute." He chimed with a sarcastic pep.

Steve smiled weakly. He looked over his shoulder, watching the soldier make way across the bar back to his friends. They hollered as he walked back, chinking their glasses together, too drunk to notice the fact he had been flirting at the bar and even gotten a new drink instead of gone to the bathroom.

Steve wasn't sure how long it had been by the time he and Clint had left. Clint downed at least three pints, but he still seemed as sharp as ever as they walked out into the night.

Sticking his hands in his leather pockets and looking down to his friend, he sighed. "Hate to leave you, but duty calls."

Clint smiled weakly, and for a moment Steve forgot that Clint had the one thing Steve didn't: a proper family. He had a wife and two children already. Being out past midnight probably wasn't giving him such a good image to the wife.

"It's alright. I only live a few blocks down." Steve said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. His friends nodded appreciatively and said a volley a goodbyes before turning and hurrying away in the opposite direction.

And just like that, the streets seemed to get a whole lot darker. Steve wasn't afraid, he just wasn't a fan. Of the streets, of the people, you name it-they all had a bad rep in his eyes. Tonight didn't really help him much.

A choir of voices and murmurs picked up their volume as Steve walked down the streets. He passed an alley, lit up by the essence of the street lights on either side. A few guys loitered down there, talking and cursing at each other.

 _Just go the long way home_ , Steve begged himself, but he wasn't sure he could. Not only was he stubborn, but he thought his lungs would explode if he had to walk even a block further. Turning down the alleyway, Steve kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused straight ahead of him.

The whole ' _try not to look and they won't notice me_ ' thing didn't work out so well this time. The guys around him pushed themselves off their casual placement on the wall and walked around him. "Look at this little fella."

One of them snickered, and another said in reply, "Kid's kinda cute."

"How much ya think a little guy like him would go for?" Another said with a serious smile.

Steve's face fell. He thought about running, but his legs were still shaking. Before he knew it, one of them reached out and grabbed his forearm. They yanked him back, but-being the resilient thing he was-made a fist and struck out for the man's face.

The man yelped, but Steve was sure he hurt himself more than he hurt his enemy. It wasn't long before one of his friend's took his place and pinned Steve up against the brick wall. "Just don't scream kid! Gah, they always scream."

Steve didn't have the lungs nor the ability to scream; the man's hand closed around his neck, dragging him until he toes just scuffed the ground. _They always scream_. Steve's chest pounded wildly, his hands clawing at the man's arms.

"Hey!" There was a voice at the opening of the alley, a light at the end of a tunnel. Three, four, hell maybe five people ran forward. Steve couldn't tell; the smothering had begun to make him dizzy.

Even as the fight raged on around him, Steve was held and choked against the wall. He felt utterly helpless as his eyesight went spotted.

Suddenly, someone knocked into the man choking him, and Steve went falling to the ground. He slumped over, coughing and sputtering for air as the ruckus around him finally settled down.

Someone leaned over Steve, but his blurred eyesight made it look like five people. He felt a hand slip behind his head to cushion it from the asphalt. "Bucky, we need to get going." Someone said urgently.

 _Bucky_? The man over Steve looked behind his shoulder frantically. "It's alright, you guys go home. I'll deal with this kid."

Steve wasn't sure what was happening, as there was nothing but an awkward silence. Eventually, Bucky's mates had turned and left, murmuring sad goodbyes under their breaths as they clapped each other supportively on the back.

A deep sigh escaped Bucky's lips. He smelled like alcohol, yet he seemed the most sober. Maybe the fight had brought sense into him. "T-Thanks."

Bucky looked around before pulling Steve's head to his chest. "You shoulda let me walk ya home, pal." He said, his arm snaking under Steve's scrawny legs.

Naturally, Steve would have protested, but he didn't have the energy. For a moment he was even glad to get beat up; Bucky's chest was warm, his neck smelling vaguely of cheap cologne, his arms holding the smaller man bridal style down the alleyway.

Bucky furrowed his brows in confusion. "You like getting beat up or somethin'?" When Steve made a similar face, he continued, "You just got choked out and you're grinning like an idiot."

That only made Steve smile more. "I guess I'm a daring young man seeking adventure."

Bucky whistled. "The only thing you'll seek out tonight is my couch." He muttered. Steve was one-hundred-percent sure his mind was taking it the wrong way, but he was fine with it.

They kept walking down the street. Bucky's footsteps were soothing, his hold on Steve comforting. He just had this feeling that Bucky wouldn't let go of Steve for the life of him.

And, he was right, considering he woke up the next morning with a few bruises and Bucky's arm slinked around his waist from behind, struggling to keep Steve close so he didn't fall off the couch. He was still wearing his dress uniform.


End file.
